Dark Smoke
by Sisi427
Summary: Takasugi thinks back on his budding relationship and a key difference this particular morning after. Quick one shot intro to a possible story. Taka/OC M for situations and future (if continued) language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everybody! As many of you may realize, I have a slight Taka obsession, and love to write him and my OC. As of now, this fic hasn't been fully decided yet. I have a story, and am contemplating writing it out, but it'll be impossible for me to keep the poetic feel of it if I do (it comes and goes). So this may be left as a one shot. Not sure. Either way, please read and review! Let me know what you think and if you'd want it to be further explored or left as is! :)**

Occasionally, Takasugi would think that she was like smoke. Moreso than silk; the way she slipped in and out of his bed leaving no trace but her scent on the sheets and his skin. She never stayed the night. Every single morning, even before dawn, he would wake to an empty bed. As if she had never been there, or had been a figment of his imagination.

But there was nothing fictional about the marks she left behind. Scratches. A light bruise at the crook of his neck. Even less about the way she ground her hips against his, always in sync with his pace, until they were nothing but pounding pulses with dry throats in dire need of oxygen.

From the moment they had started, he knew that she was nothing like the sweet, innocent little girl Gintoki considered her to be, and she had made good on testing that hypothesis every time he showed up; moments before midnight closing for a "cup of tea". Because he did so love his beverages.

How the silver haired Samurai had missed her true colors was beyond him, but Takasugi was glad that he had. Less competition for him. Not that it would have been one if things had been any different.

If the opposition he'd received had been true, if Takasugi and Kinu really didn't make the cut, then why did his thumbs perfectly fill the dimples of her back? And if their heads were in the same place, why not their bodies too? She didn't seem to mind that he manipulated everything in his environment, or that he lied effortlessly, and stole when it suited him. Didn't care that he had barely been able to collect what shattered remains were left of his past self and filled the rest of the gaps in with the mud of corruption and each fine crack with wisps of sadistic pleasure.

Debauchery, when self control wasn't on the menu.

And he had been in the same place as her before. At the edge of whatever sliver of hope stood between oblivion and the sick desire to push forward when the fight was futile and that same sliver that could have been salvation sliced the hands that clung to it.

Any sane person would have automatically blamed him, and he knew it. But the truth wasn't so simple. She had done it. Done this. The way she kept pressing herself against him. Barely brushing her hand against his, as if she thought that she was subtle. A good man would have turned her down and away. Denied any contact, not only physical, and referred to her age. Barely an adult.

Takasugi was no good man, though. His blade didn't hesitate, and if he had, it had only lasted a fraction of a second.

Even so, her secrets, whispered into his ear in the dead of night weren't enough to keep her until he woke. They left him the same as she did. Mind to its full capacity and racing to over analyze the slightest hint at an expression that she would only spare if they were truly alone. Locked in the silent intimacy of eye contact, and vague statements that made perfect sense in that moment. A brief pinch of the lips that may have been inflicted by the other's teeth. May have been self imposed.

Still, looking at the pale back of the form stretched beside him, reminiscent of a cat nap, he didn't mind. It was the first time she'd stayed. Not like the stream of smoke from his pipe at all, though, he decided. Seeing her there; real, solid, and twisted in his sheets. She wasn't the ghost he'd made her out to be. More like her namesake, silk. Smooth against the callouses of his palm. Icy until he ignited her with his own heat, and more than willing to be set aflame and burn before his very eye. Burn for him. Until he was satisfied.

Pleased with her demonstration of self destructive submission. Her loyalty, or the sound she made when he curled his fingers inside of her and forced her to cling to him for support.

Not like smoke at all.

When she finally noticed his staring and stirred, she asked for the time. Four simple words. But Takasugi knew what she was really asking. Was she in time for the train? The clock said that she was, if she rushed, but he had a mind to claim the opposite. This was the last time. That was the only explanation as to why it was different. She wasn't coming back again. Despite that, he managed three words; cool and collected. As she expected from him.

"You'll make it."

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 **A/N: Thank you all for reading, and please take a moment to drop a review and let me know what you think of this! :)**


	2. The Hunt

**A/N: Hi all! Big thanks to all of you that reviewed! It means the world to me that you like my characters and support my random brainstorms when something random like this comes up. From the bottom of my heart, I really appreciate it (especially because I love love love writing Takasugi. He's tough but so fun, and knowing that other people like the way I portray him is huge inspiration to keep writing him). It's gonna have to border poetic and actual coherent story line (so please bear with me, this is a new style), but I have a lot planned out for this story. Like... A lot a lot. There's crazy drama and everything already planned and partially written. You can probably tell where this is going after this chapter already, but it's gonna be fun even if you can, I promise. So without further ado, please enjoy, and if you have the time, R &R for author affection whore. :D**

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Initially, everything was set in motion by Takasugi's default drive. Governmental overthrow. Complete domination and destruction of the system that had wronged him. It wasn't a benevolent endeavor; he couldn't care less about the other people that had been injured. Forever scarred by the ebb and sway of security and stability that had proven to be a mere illusion of the past. Anything went. If there was a single person he could get to and execute, he would have done it for the sake of his personal agenda. But the big wigs, and even the moderate wigs, were carefully guarded. Cozy in their plush little homes with their bouncing families and fat children rolling around in the metaphorical mud while men like him were banished to a land of eternal mourning.

Memories of what had been and never would be again.

In childhood, he'd envisioned a different path. As all foolish, unmarred children did. He'd thought that his life had been difficult, and that he'd experienced hardships at that tender age of sneaking to a school he didn't belong to. Now, he saw those memories for the joke that they really were. He was wiser. Stronger. More capable than ever a man had been; when he put his mind to it.

This mission, long term as it may have been, was one of those time he invested every ounce of his energy. The plan had been a decade in the making, and this was the time to harvest the blooms of fruition.

One more step, and the next shogun would be his. Puppets were indispensable. Especially major figure heads. Checkmate was in sight, and all he had to do was claw his way to the meeting room, tactfully, of course. His presence during the initial step would be more than enough. Momentum to the still pendulum that would swing in his favor and bring success.

Unconventional requests never debased Takasugi anymore. He was prepared for anything. Amanto goods, pleasure houses, drugs, it was all at his dispense, and nothing would catch him off guard. Or so he thought. His need for access to the Nobu Nobu meeting drove him to contacting an old acquaintance. Long time business partners was an overstatement. He'd known the man for years, yet only sought him out for an overflow sale that he needed to dump before it got too hot. Amagi Seiji was the man for odds and ends. He could find a use for anything. Takasugi was convinced that it he had a shipment of a thousand paperclips, the Amagi family would turn it into a business venture and buy them all. Swing their losses into stupidly large profits in the span of twenty-four hours.

And he was just the man that could get Takasugi into the assembly hall without batting an eye.

By the ring of the older man's pinky finger, he could legally get an AR-15 into the Shinsengumi headquarters and use a few of the underdogs as target practice. Make them thank him before he left in his stretch limousine; still firing rounds skyward and sloshing champagne out of a glass flute.

"It's possible." As Amagi spoke, Takasugi stole a drag of tobacco. They sat on floor cushions, around their usual table in the Amagi mansion. Possibly the only traditional room of the hundreds in the entire building. "I could work something out, of course." Amagi's trademark grin was flashed at Takasugi. Not mirrored in the slightest. He wanted to hear the _hows_ , but it became apparent that he would get no such luxury. After the positive note, a favor was immediately requested. Typical, the one eyed man thought to himself, but he refrained from showing any sign of the inconvenience. Handouts weren't expected. At his right hand, Kawakami perked up at the request, and even Matako, to the left of him, sat straighter when Amagi delved into his issue.

Family funds. They were one of the richest families in Japan, the Amagi clan, but the man before Takasugi was being cut off. Limited. His daily allowance, which was more than most people saw in their entire lives, wasn't enough for him, and unless he could settle down and prove to his father that he was a mature, changed man, he wouldn't have unrestricted money. Even with the silver streak of his jaw-length chestnut hair, he was considered a child.

No doubt, it was because the prostitute parties and savage beating of his enemies, but Takasugi wasn't one to judge. If some rich brat wanted to form an impromptu gang and recruit mindless teenagers, who was he to preach morality? Hadn't he done something similar?

Everything boiled down to a simple task. One request that was unlike anything Takasugi had heard.

"I need a wife." Amagi said. His grin lessened to the point that his eyes finally opened, and for once, Takasugi was almost struck dumb. Match-making wasn't his forte, but he needed Nobu Nobu far more than he needed normalcy. "Father has been on about pure, true love. Those damn soap operas have corrupted him. So maybe a vagrant. To show him how generous I am."

"A _wife_?" The word was stretched in disbelief. Takasugi could have laughed it if he wasn't already running through the burden of the hunt in his head.

"Is there... anything in particular that you're looking for?" Kawakami was the first to speak after a pause that could have swallowed the world.

"I don't really care. _Pretty_ , obviously. Make her smart too, that'd entertain the old man. And humble. Not one of those poor people that go on and on about their tragic pasts... But a tragic past might make her more realistic. Make it bad enough that the only reason we'd be together is the red string of fate, you know? Soulmates."

Like Takasugi was mixing ingredients up to create the perfect tramp. He hardly took mental note of the list. Figured Kawakami would remember it all, and find the appropriate woman through his own connections. A gold digger would be well enough.

The next woman he met, he resolved; weren't they all the same?

Aside from Matako. She was an exception. Brain-dead; fumbling over him and following him into life or death situations without a second thought. Matako probably would have done it if he asked, but Takasugi didn't want a life time of longing glances and hopeful, emotional letters detailing her faithful wait for him to rescue her like a damsel in distress. He couldn't speak to her as he did Kawakami for fear that she would pounce on him and turn it sentimental or romantic when there was no place for such emotions in his life.

Takasugi only saw one thing.  
Revenge.

"Do you have an age preference?" The woman in question had taken out a notepad and was scribbling Amagi's demands down. Making herself useful. It was welcomed, and a good idea.

"Something realistic... No, young. Younger women are more fun, that could be nice. Early twenties?"

Early twenties Takasugi's ass. That was too young for Takasugi, and this man was clearly in his forties, maybe fifties. He'd take whatever Takasugi could give him. Poor, pretty, and smart was enough.

If Takasugi told him that a random librarian that wore cheap cherry blossom perfume was up for it, Amagi would have to accept her.

"Looks?" Matako prodded, and the older man sighed.

"Oh, I don't know. Green eyes? Brown hair? Kind of plain, but not so much. And no moles or anything. They bother me."

That was the end of it. Takasugi and his group had their job, and the one eyed man was determined to knock it out as quickly as possible. There were two months before his time was up and he'd have to make it on that ship for the meeting. That was plenty of time to find a woman to marry a complete stranger. Probably.


	3. Deliveries

In the usual sense, a mis-delivered package was never a big deal. Sure, the recipients would be angry to not receive their goods, but others were always available, assuming that the price wasn't outrageous and their pockets weren't laden with dust and debris. In the usual sense. That didn't apply to Takasugi. He knew the exact day that his box was supposed to arrive, and had paid far too much to lose the shipment, but the exact day that it was marked as delivered, he received a box of tea. Tea that he didn't fucking order.

Being the cunning man that he was, a handful of empty safe houses were scattered across japan, two being in the Kabuki district. Mist blanketed the streets of the delivery site, and even with the sun on the horizon, he couldn't make out his hand from his shoulder and was all but convinced that his body ended just below his chest.

He thought that his associates were playing a joke. Maybe stepping up security and hiding his real spoils behind a layer of cleverly placed distraction, but after digging deep into the crate, there was nothing but more dried beverages.

A little weed, but nothing that he was supposed to be receiving. His name had been cleverly replaced with another, numerics of the address likewise, and he ended up staring at the box as though it would manifest the artillery he expected. Amanto technology was nothing to toy with.

Still, after hours of watching the box, nothing happened. Kawakami examined it, Matako as well, and all three of them came up empty handed. By the time Takechi volunteered to do the same, Takasugi could only wave him off. There was no point and they had better things to do than rummage through dried plants and pretend that something different would happen if they each took their turns. As if they were special and held the key to decoding the mystery box that looked more and more like it was a mistake, instead of a clever ploy to throw off the law.

Only a wooden box remained, when all was said and searched. The Kihetai was left with seasonal beverages and drugs, and that was far less concerning than the money that Takasugi had invested in his order. He had a deal coming up, and couldn't afford to miss it. How else would he afford his lavish lifestyle?

"It seems we've been duped, Shinsuke."

"They've got a lot of nerve..." Matako added on to Kawakami's statement as she pulled the skin off a tangerine. Something they wouldn't be able to buy if he missed the drop point in three days and blew a business partnership.

"No." Breathing the word between igniting his pipe, Takasugi leaned back on the tatami and cleared his mind. It didn't sit right with him, sure, but he wouldn't go so far as to say that they were intentionally betrayed. This looked like a processing error. "The name and address are wrong." Their cover wasn't Inoue. He flicked his lighter and ignited the fresh bowl of tobacco.

The deaf man nudged the rim of the crate with his foot to peer at the name and leaned back against the paper door.

"So what are we going to do?"

"This address is just down the street."

"What if it's a set up?" Matako had a point, and Takasugi was more than aware that it was a possibility. He'd already considered that, and a trail of smoke escaped his lips as he shrugged.

"You'll be outside. It won't be anything extravagant; we know those dogs don't have the insight to prepare." For the most part, that was. The Shinsengumi could follow along and keep up with the twists and turns of a case, but they weren't gifted in premeditated traps. Not enough to be a threat.

So Takasugi spent a while working out the details of possible scenarios. He wasn't one to turn down a challenge, and would meet them head on if they had the audacity to call him out. Crush them before they got too cocky. If his suspicion was wrong, this would be a relatively pleasant exchange. He'd find his real shipment and take it, plain and simple. If it had been delivered to another person, he would find them. Silence them. Most people could be paid off, but Takasugi didn't want to bother with that.

Negotiations were a strong suit.

* * *

On the other side of the aforementioned street, hours after the one eyed man had vowed to get to the bottom of the mystery cargo, another person was carefully prying the face off a crate. She propped the lid up with her crow bar, and the light from the curtained storefront windows was reflected back up at her from the myriad of metal at the tips of her toes. Frowning down at the gleaming artillery, Kinu froze, crowbar limp at her side, just inches over the wooden floor. Processing. She needed to understand what she was looking at, and by some stroke of luck, she was alone and had the time to do so.

Guns. Too many guns to count. Pistols, glocks, she was sure that the longer, diagonal ones were either rifles or shotguns, and boxes of ammunition were stacked in the upper corner, ready for full use. How was she supposed to make tea out of this? Surely, there had been some kind of mistake. She only hoped that it was unintentional, and not a sick prank from the idiots down the street that kept stealing her shipments and advertising them on their sign.

Wouldn't even let her inside.

Nothing could be done with this. She needed to go to the post office.

What were they thinking, giving her something like that with a straight face and not so much as a "how do you do", or "consider a life or crime and petty burglaries"?

She shoved the top back on the box. Couldn't take it with her; what if she ran into the Shinsengumi? They'd know. They'd take one look at her and pronounce her a criminal. Lock her in a cell under their headquarters and forget a toilet bucket and slop until she was a pile of poor innocent bones and dust.

Kinu didn't waste another moment pondering the curious delivery, and didn't allow anybody to see what she's received. Her father didn't need to know. Her mother would probably come up with a terrible scheme to get rid of them and profit, and the only other person that could catch her was just outside of the door. The bell above the entrance rang as the man eased his way into the tea shop and claimed a seat dead center of the counter. Only a few chairs down from the pastry display.

"New teas?"

"Uh..." With one hard shove, the crate fell in line under the counter, next to similar others, and blended in like it belonged. "No." The girl straightened herself and wiped her palms on her dark pants. She turned back to Gintoki, washing her previous alarm away with a cool, even stare.

Disinterested as usual, the man reached over the counter and grabbed a mug. His next move was for a pair of tongs and the pastries. He hadn't even suspected her of crime or foul play. Didn't seem accusatory in the slightest.

His crimson eyes flicked up to the girl for a brief second, then he helped himself to the food inside of the display case. Set multiple jam filled rolls and rice balls onto a plate he'd relieved her of.

"What's with that face?"

Suddenly aware of her raised brows, Kinu urged herself to the counter. With two fumbling steps, she took her usual place and tried to play cool. There was no way for him to know. She was being paranoid. Read too many novels that indicated that this would be the perfect set up.

The girl hummed under her breath, and shifted her gaze to the pastries on his plate. Nothing could pry money from his wallet, but she wouldn't charge him if she wanted to.

"Wrong box..." Her words were enough to satiate Gintoki's mild curiosity, and the silver haired man shoved half a jam roll into his mouth as his cup was filled with warm tea.

"Want me to take it back? You asked Pops to run it down there?"

Shaking her head, Kinu set the teapot back on the stovetop. Not a chance in hell. That old drunk wasn't keen on running errands and she wouldn't let him get his hands on guns if her life depended on it. In the back of her mind, the words "jail" and " eternity" echoed again, but she smothered them with a mug of tea for herself.

Soon as the silver haired samurai left, she'd lock up and head down to the post herself to stare at the owner until he corrected his transgression. Reimbursed her. Something. There was more in that shipment of tea than she wanted to admit and if it went to the wrong place, cops would be all over it. The only hope that remained was that the person that should have gotten the guns had gotten her shipment, and that they could make a cordial trade without a shoot out. Kinu couldn't work a gun.

That or that her tea hadn't been delivered at all and the post office would collect their mess of illegal activities. Whichever worked.

As anticipated, the Yorozuya left without paying his tab. Didn't think twice about handing over his dirty plate and lazily stretching into a sigh as he let himself out of the store. Stupid brother. All he ever did was eat her food, mutter a bit, and maybe read a Manga while they willed the time away. On a good day, they'd have a fresh shipment of tea and both read, though she opted for serious novels. Maybe exchange a few words about her nonexistent social life, or his gambling problem and overdue rent.

This time, it was a bargaining day. Gintoki's apartment was in need of a deep cleaning, and Kagura wasn't helping out any with her empty sukonbu wrappers. Sadaharu had made a mess of his designated area, and Shinpachi was up to his glasses in dog waste and hollow milk cartons.

Later, Kinu had said. Maybe in a few days, when she had a nice, long break.

Gintoki was sweet on his old war buddies, and even more welcoming towards their children. Even if her dad was a dirty, exaggerating dumb ass, Gintoki hadn't hesitated when it came to accepting them and her mother into his good graces. The free stuff probably helped, but since she was a little girl, she only remembered him coming around to play with her. He'd disappeared for a while, but he was back now, full force, and apparently ravenous.

But he brought good humor, and a certain strain of protection that she had yet to slap a label on. His presence calmed the household, and in turn, Kinu didn't mind losing profit over it.

Alone, she turned back to the box under the counter. Maybe there was a clue on it.


	4. Stakeout

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and especially for telling me what you think of the story so far. Enjoy!**

 **Pazaror- I hope you don't mind that I've scrapped the previous Takasugi stories (bad habit when I get dissatisfied), but I also hope you'll like this! Thank you for your review, it means the world to me! :)**

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The first day that Takasugi had seen her, he thought it strange. The mission was to scope out the address on the mis-delivered crate. See what he was getting into. It was a fleeting moment. He passed by, focused on the ground under his feet and the walls of the back road, deep in contemplation. Everybody but him had known to bring an umbrella. Each person he passed had one propped over their shoulder and scurried about their business, unable to be bothered with one another or petty greetings. The rain had drenched his shoulders, and his hair was weighed down against his face; clinging. Empty as the safe house was, umbrellas weren't on the stock list. Only basic furniture in case the Kihetai needed to move at a moment's notice; lacking the personals.

It was then, that the sight of another person without an umbrella stole his eye.

He hadn't thought much of it, to be honest. Could have overlooked her easily, but something had drawn his attention to her. The smell in the air. Drugs. She was leaned against the wall, looking up. Didn't notice him, even when he walked up to her. Smoking in public on a back street, casually perched against the side wall of a cafe. The address was right. Her hair stood out more than her cigar; black fringe, and a black stripes cutting into blonde. Maybe more black at the back, he couldn't see, but before he knew what he was doing, he'd stopped.

The numbers of the tea shop beside her were exactly what he was looking for. This was the place.

She appeared to be enjoying herself. Held no discernible expression, and was dressing oddly; a white button up and slacks. Maybe an employee?

Absentmindedly, the girl raised her cigar, only to find that it had burned out. She was snapped from her reverie, and started to dig into her pocket, then took notice of the man at her side. Her eyes slowly opened, then trailed down to him. As if she was a robot, or a mere haunting image that had chosen to repeat itself on remote rainy days, the girl remained still. Intrigued that he'd walked up to her, or maybe that he could see her assuming the last speculation was correct. She was pulled from her spell of quiet indulgence, her cigar propped against her crossed arms, no longer smoking, and she made no effort to hide it. Just looked at him; stoic. Possibly thrown off by being interrupted.

But Takasugi saw and took his opportunity. He produced a match. Struck it on the grit of the box, then shielded it from the wind and rain in an offer of peace. A fellow smoker that knew the feeling too well, though the substance may not have been the same. If she was smoking in public, the shipment was likely hers. There was a good chance that Takasugi's artillery was just beyond the door.

The girl tucked her hair behind her ear and accepted his flame. Shortly after her ignition, he lit the tobacco in his pipe, and discarded the match before his fingertips were cooked.

"Where's the nearest post office?"

Instead of speaking, the girl pointed in the direction he'd been walking, then curved behind herself.

Take the next turn.

From her demeanor, and the way her cerulean eyes had honed in on him, Takasugi could only assume that she didn't want to be bothered by another person. It wasn't personal. She just wasn't inclined to keep company, or force pleasantries where they didn't belong. Where she had no reason to waste them.

His question had done nothing to draw her out. He didn't need a post office, he needed to look at the supply room of the tea shop and see if his shipment had been stashed there.

He continued on his way then. Didn't thank her, or speak another word after, and that was the end of it. There had been no shelter from the rain. No meaningful glance, but he remembered her as the rain girl. Just standing there, not bothered by the weather when everybody hid from it. No frills. No makeup to run down her face, and no special attention. She likely regarded him as a lost man among the skyscrapers and back alleys, and left him as that. A stranger, not befitting hospitality or even a single pitch of her voice.

She may not have known it, but being the only two on the side of the street, trapped without an umbrella and not caring was indeed a moment of shared privacy that twisted Takasugi to the point of wondering how she sounded. If her voice was musical; befitting an elf or a porcelain doll as she looked, or sacrilegious to pair with her appearance. Amagi's request rang clear in his mind as he rounded the corner she'd indicated. She was the first woman he'd met. Young, and likely poor if she worked in that shop.

He'd find her voice later.

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In the following days, Takasugi made note of the fact that the shopfront was visible from his safe house. He scoped the place out. Watched for a daily routine, and found that the girl usually came out around the same times for smoke breaks after taking out the trash. Twice, the schedule was the same and she was in her usual spot with a joint. On the third day, she was on the phone, and another person met her out front. He was a young boy, teenager, if Takasugi had to guess, and likely devoid of a single hair other than the dark stands of his head. The girl left, then returned with a folded carry out box. Food, likely. Once he accepted the box, the boy bowed, and she returned the gesture. Deeper than necessary. There was an awkward fumble of bowing after that. The boy repeated himself no fewer than three times, and the girl was obligated to return the gesture. Even after walking a few paces away, he turned back around and bowed, but this time, the strange haired girl didn't mimic him. Just took a moment to watch his steady retreat.

Only when he was out of sight did she lean against the wall, as per usual, and pull her cigarette tin from her pocket.

Smoke streamed from Takasugi's mouth as he leaned up from his perch on the window. It had only been a few days, but he'd grown more familiar with the girl since. He still hadn't seen her interact much, aside from the skittish glasses wearing boy, and deduced that she was a recluse. The shop didn't get much business, aside from a few old bags that were impeccably dressed and people wanting pastries to go. There was a drunk that was the girl's personal charity project, as she'd give him money out of the till; likely without the owner's consent. When spoken to, the girl mostly nodded, stared, or shook her head. Rarely did she open her mouth.

After the first couple of hours, Takasugi noticed that he wasn't the only one watching. His attention set on a familiar man closer to the shop than his window, and lingered there more so than the store. He was standing at the mouth of a house and pretending to be absorbed in a newspaper. For three days, Takasugi had been watching the girl. For three days, the man had been watching her as well; newspaper unchanged. Never turned the page. And again, for three days, Takasugi found himself watching the man more than the one he still guessed lacked corporeal form and was nothing but a vapid wisp of long passed memories replaying until the end of time. Graceful as she moved, she had to be the work of the afterlife or a necromancer's perfected practice doll.

A dark patch that looped around the bald man's thumb formed a tattoo that Takasugi recognized, and in an instant he understood what had happened to his shipment. It was a set up, as Matako had guessed, but not the kind she thought. The cops hadn't done a thing. His supposed business partner wanted the goods without losing the pay, and to push the blame onto him, as if he'd lost the deal by way of his own incompetence or a mailing mishap. They'd staged it, somehow, maybe paid off the delivery man, and knew exactly where the shipment had gone.

Then, they sent a man to watch the girl, likely an innocent tool or bystander than knew nothing of the intentional mishap.

They were going to take the shipment.

When they made their move, Takasugi would be there to shove their faces back to the dirt where they belonged.

"Bansai," The deaf man was only a few short meters away, and looked up from the paper he'd been scribbling on for the past few hours. After motioning the man nearer, Takasugi stood "Take a picture of him and get his name." Likewise, Matako was staged in the alley beside their place and instructed to shoot straight if the man approached the shop Takasugi was walking towards. With his men staged, the one eyed man strolled over to where the girl stood. The back road was mostly empty, and twilight was starting to lick at the sky when he took spot beside her. She immediately noticed him this time.

Kinu hummed under her breath in a greeting that could have escaped the man for all she knew. His pipe was at the corner of his mouth, and a stream of tobacco smoke met her senses as she crossed her arms. Waited for a reason to see him a second time. A single olive eye sifted over her, then set on her face as the man leaned one shoulder into the wall beside her.

"The mail service here has been rather... unpredictable lately. Hasn't it?"

It was a direct approach, but Kinu remained silent. Didn't make any expression, or move in the slightest.

"I believe you've received something unusual."

Instead of responding, the girl turned to face Takasugi. She pressed her rolled joint into the building and knocked the smoking cherry off. Maintained eye contact as she placed it back into her cigarette tin and moved around him. Without so much as a word, the girl went back into the shop and locked the door for good measure.

Stared at Takasugi from the glass between them as she turned the sign from "walk on in" to "walk on by".

Hopefully, he would get the message. She wasn't going to incriminate herself to what had to be undercover cops just waiting to bust her when she hadn't done anything wrong. He was probably the Shinsengumi. They knew. The way he was smirking at her, as if she had proven her guilt by refusing to comment, was evidence enough. If it happened again, she was skipping out to China. He probably had a wire, and dozens of men staged around to drag her off to a jail cell, kicking and screaming. As she looked at him, she reached to the wall and flipped the lights off. Left him there to stare at the _going out of business_ sign, and retreated to the back of the store, the actual house, and eventually her room. From her window, she watched the strange man walk away, and breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that he didn't break her door down with a search warrant.

That was close.


	5. Direct Confrontation

After a fine outing of obtaining household necessities, Kinu found herself face-to-face with the first and last person she wanted to see. First, because he was her age and one of the nicest people she knew. Last because every time she saw him things grew so terribly awkward that his stuttering and odd twitchy bowing became contagious and if she bowed any more than she already had, her head would probably fall off and roll around. That wasn't cute.

Shinpachi helped her carry her bags. It was a coincidence that they ran into each other, but after only five bows, he seemed to regain himself and offered to help. They walked in silence for the most part, glancing at one another from the corners of their eyes, and Kinu couldn't help but think that this was the epitome of teenage life. A crush. Every good teenager had one, and while she wasn't very good at girl-ing she was thrilled that he got jumpy when she stood closer than necessary and visibly flushed if she even hinted at desiring his company. They had to be right. He didn't give her butterflies, or moths, for that matter, if that was a thing, but he was so painstakingly innocent that Kinu was convinced he'd die if she even touched him. Luckily, she didn't want to and didn't plan on doing so any time soon.

Not that she needed any more pending criminal charges.

It wasn't that he particularly liked her. She knew. He wasn't used to being approached, and she wasn't used to it either. Not that he ever did.

They stopped in front of her house, and she unlocked the store, which was a portion of the ground floor. Shinpachi followed her in and set the bags on the counter, beside where she placed her own. Kinu would take them to the house later.

"Thank you..."

A large, unsure grin was flashed her way, and the boy sheepishly chuckled. Scratched the back of his neck and waved it off.

"Do you want tea? I can-"

"Oh, uh, n- no t- thank you, Inoue-San." Politely declining, the boy turned back to the door. He didn't stay in the shop long. They were alone, and it would be indecent. Once outside, Kinu grasped onto his sleeve and he nearly turned into a statue.

"Cake? You carried these all the way here and-"

"That's not necessary, I couldn't let you carry it all by yourself. Plus, I was going this way already. There's a graduation party and I can't be late."

"Oh," Disappointment tinged within Kinu, but she nodded nonetheless. "Yeah, sure..." Though the girl never made much in the way of expressions, the cloud of gloom was unmistakable. Kinu knew she was creepy. She hadn't thought that she'd been particularly creepy this time, but she knew. And trying not to be made it worse. "Some other time?" She stepped forward, despite herself, and Shinpachi shrunk back.

Two wide eyes shined back at the girl, and he vigorously nodded.

"S- Some- I- I mean, y- Yes." He'd turned beet red again.

Kinu nodded slowly. A tiny smile crossed her, and she finally averted her gaze. Finally. While the girl was proud of herself for pushing time together, Shinpachi was able to swallow the lump in his throat. He skittered off then, partially bowing, yet trying to refrain from more erratic symbols of respect. Kinu, in turn, barely inclined her head and went back into her mother's shop.

She didn't really know why he bowed, but okay...

Shinpachi started down the road again, breathing a sigh of relief. Finally free of the pressure that came with being the object of a girl's affection, he could think again. A real girl. Not a 2-D one, but one that actually breathed, and was warm, and talked directly to him with a voice. It was insane. He almost didn't realize when a man walked by him, but at the last second, Shinpachi looked up into his face and froze. The blood that had heated his cheeks drained as he swiveled on his heel to keep sight of the one eyed man.

"Y- You!"

Takasugi didn't pay the boy much mind. From the looks of things, he was blowing his chances with the girl anyway; the way he instinctively moved away when she drew near and kept bowing like a bobble head. If the girl wasn't tired of it, she was lacking in the intelligence department. The boy was a member of Takasugi's least favorite game of house. Gintoki's family. Probably out for a walk while the silver haired samurai warmed his dinner bottle.

"Don't get in my way." Plain and simple, Takasugi issued his warning and carried on.

Shinpachi watched as the one eyed man proceeded into Inoue's Pastries and Tea. He stood, shocked for a short while before remembering himself. Gintoki's name dropped from his tongue as if it would summon the man from dust. Then he broke into a run back the way he had come. Only Gintoki could save her.

* * *

Kinu had moved most of the bags into the house before getting her first customer. It was the undercover cop. He walked in as if he owned the place, and she looked up at him from her book on the counter.

Takasugi approached and glanced over the store for any sign of what he'd seen earlier. Everything seemed in place. Under the tables were clear. The preparation counters were open and clear.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me."

"Hm." That was the only response. Kinu frowned at him, but his eye shot to a partially opened crate under one of the counters in question.

"Is that it?" He didn't wait for an answer. Rounded the counter and went straight to the box in question. As he did, the girl stepped back. Her arm slid over the counter and a paper bag dropped onto the ground along with the novel she'd been eyeing. Books spilled over the hardwood; some of the titles familiar, others foreign.

After a brief glance, the one eyed man lifted the edge of the crate. To his delight, it was exactly as he expected. His shipment was fully intact and safe; didn't appear to have been touched at all. Bingo. Before he could say a word, movement behind him pulled at his instincts. He straightened himself and turned to the girl, hand on his sword. Far too pleased to voice it. She wasn't involved. Everything was there, and for that, he could spare her.

"I'm not afraid of you." Kinu's hand settled on a knife she'd left on the counter, and she silently thanked her past self for being too lazy to wash it. The raven haired man's eye lit up with a spark of entertainment, thrill, or delight; Kinu wasn't sure.

Oh no. He was crazy.

"You should be."

"Well I'm _not_."

"Oh?" He stepped towards her as she moved away, and her back hit the wooden cabinet behind her. A trap that would lead to her untimely demise. There was no point in running. He had a sword. She had a fruit knife about as long as her pinky. The man pulled his sword out, and advanced again, and for the first time, Kinu wished the Shinsengumi had come to arrest her. Kinu pressed herself as far into the wood as she could and turned her head. Squinted at him. He was the worst cop ever. Going to murder her over something that she'd had no say in.

Takasugi moved closer to the girl, ready to catch her if she swung the knife. She didn't flinch. Just glared up at him. Held her breath as if that would glue him in place as well. She could have been scared, but her face didn't betray it, and if he had to say so himself, she was even challenging him.

Didn't run, didn't look away.

Why, only a couple dozen people had ever faced him head on without cowardice and this girl was one of the only ones without a proper weapon.

"What use do you have of guns? Why keep them?"

"I don't want them. Take them."

Glancing at the cabinet behind the girl, Takasugi paused. That had to be it. Unless the rest of the house was open, that was the only place. The girl stuck the knife out at him, nearly into his chest. A terrible defense, if he had to say so himself.

"If you're going to kill me, hurry up."

The single eye that had set on Kinu narrowed and the man thrust his sword at her. Her breath caught. He was too close for comfort; just over her as she gawked at him; his nose nearly brushing against hers. In her bubble. Shinpachi wouldn't even come so close to her. A slow, even smirk curled his mouth, and she realized that there was no pain. The only thing she felt was the pressure of her own wrist being pressed into her ribs to immobilize any attack she could fathom.

"I'm not going to kill you." It was only a murmur, but it was the loudest, smoothest sentence Kinu had ever heard. The air that stuck in her lungs finally escaped her as she peered up at the stranger. Her eyes broke away from him to the sword jutting out of the cabinet. A line of crimson crept down the blade and she turned, unable to care that she pressed her shoulder into him. Her palm soon followed as she made sense of the sight, and pushed the man out of her space. Attempted to show that he had stepped into forbidden territory, even if he had been a crazed murderer only a second ago, and still was, as far as she could tell.

Takasugi yanked his sword from the wood, and it was smeared red. He nudged the girl out of the way and snatched the door open, not surprised when a bald man collapsed onto the ground, dagger in hand. Drawing his blade to the man's face, Takasugi glared down at him. "He might."

The questions that swirled in Kinu's head were too many to voice or make sense of. There was a man in her closet? Why? She didn't remember putting a man there. Not that she had any to do such with. When did he get there? How did he get in?

"I- I wasn't gonna hurt her! I swear I was- I was just-"

"Roll over like a good dog." Takasugi didn't care to hear the begging, or the excuse. He'd seen the man break in. Knew he was in the shop and that this was the time to move in.

Kinu had dropped her weapon and moved behind him, choosing the stranger she'd seen over the stranger in her closet. A single phone call was all that was needed to have the man escorted out for further, private interrogation. Kinu initially expected the cops, but two more random people came instead. A woman and man to be exact.

Matako and Kawakami had done exactly as Takasugi said; staged outside and kept watch. Waited for his word.

When they finished and taken the man, still begging and struggling, from the shop, all that was left was a puddle of blood, and a shocked girl that hardly spoke. Unless she was being robbed, murdered, or otherwise accosted, that was.

Takasugi helped himself to a dish towel and wiped his sword off before sheathing it and tossing the towel into the sink.

"What about the box?"

Looking at the girl, he kneeled to examine the books on the floor. He just needed to confirm his suspicion. So far, so good. It was better to leave the shipment there and sell it without moving it himself. Not to bring it into public.

"Keep it a few more days. I'll come back... But until then, you're responsible for everything in it."

"But-"

"You'll do fine." Grasping the book the girl had been reading, Takasugi held it up. "This is a good one."

"I'm only a chapter in..."

Despite her previous panic, the girl took hold of the novel and gingerly accepted it. She glanced over the red cover and brushed her hand over it as Takasugi pushed the books on the floor around.

"You have interesting taste." One book was grasped and held up, "Do you mind?"

Shaking her head, Kinu frowned. Not only to the man, but to herself. He didn't seem bothered by stabbing and taking a possible thief or murderer from her shop, right in front of her. It was as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn't thought he was robbing her and pulled a knife on him.

"I'll bring it back next time."

The man stood, and just as quickly as he had appeared, left.


	6. Changing Plans

**A/N: Hi all! Nicole NightLock, your comment really snapped my attention back to this story! I've been trying to get back into writing and continuing my stories, and have only posted for one of them so far, again. So today, I really sat down and wrote more for this one. I'll try to keep pace, but my writing style has changed since i took such a long break. Please be patient with me if I sound repetitive, because these stories mean the world to me, and I really want to get back into the swing of things, but seeing the drastic difference in how I used to write and how I'm writing now is kinda silly and sad, hahahaha. I'll try to keep with this though, and hopefully improve. Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

Next time. He would bring it back next time. Idiotic didn't begin to describe how Kinu felt. If she had to pick a word she'd have gone with vapid, or downright vacuous. A lunatic had just been in her shop stabbing people and borrowing her brand new books and all she could do was say that she was a chapter in, and sure, bring it back next time because she did so desire another run in with the murderous anti-cop that could have killed her and was involved with illegal gun shipments.

"Ki, are you sure you're alright?" Gintoki asked for the hundredth time, and Kinu nodded. She could finally breath the air of solitude, and try to calm her pounding heart, which hadn't gotten the memo about her being cold and unfeeling yet. Delivery error. Ironic as it was that botched deliveries had gotten her into this mess, the humor was wasted on her when she found the edge of a new novel dipped in blood; pages in disarray, face down on the floor. It gave a new meaning to the term dog eared page marker, and if it was any other day, she would have mused that the blood was fitting for the contents of the page.

When Gintoki had arrived she'd been trying her best to clean the puddle of blood and completely lost in her head. The sound of the bell over the door ringing sent every nerve in her body on edge and she was positive that the stranger had returned to finish the job because he didn't need any witnesses. Kinu stayed below the counter until Kagura's head popped over and announced her presence.

Shinpachi stirred his tea, and his spoon loudly scraped the bottom of his cup. When paired with his expression, it announced that he wished to say something, but was at a loss for words. Or didn't want to voice it.

"So... the police got him? How'd it happen?"

"They stabbed him." She murmured the words, and kept her eyes on the table.

"That's..." For fear of revealing too much, Gintoki severed the stream of thoughts and kept them to himself. Takasugi taken down by the Shinsengumi. He almost didn't believe it. If Kinu hadn't seen it with her own eyes, He would have written the claim off. But she had been adamant in her recount. They came in and caught him in the cupboard. Dragged him out like the lowly swine he had become, apparently. Kinu had even told that he'd claimed he wasn't going to hurt her.

But Gintoki knew better. What reason did Takasugi have to enter a remote tea shop that was on the edge of going out of business, other than that it was connected to Gintoki himself? To start some sort of backwards war. The man had intruded on his personal life, and while Gintoki wished he could be surprised, the emotion never hit him. Neither did relief. If Takasugi had been caught, the only possible outcome was a ritualistic execution. Seppuku.

The rest of the exchange went dully. Shinpachi had led his familial group back on nothing short of an adrenaline high, only to find the shop as cold and quiet as ever, and Kinu even more so. She didn't look at him across the table, and her usual firm yet gentle goading for attention and time were as if they had never existed. If Kinu felt anything at all, her face gave nothing away. Even Gintoki, beside her, wasn't spared more than a sidelong glance that quickly diminished, never to return again.

They were quickly seen off, departing with a gracious, even bow and Kinu's thanks. It was almost as if the entire ordeal was a figment of Shinpachi's imagination, and it had been a false alarm, but he knew something more was afoot. Reserved was the name of the girl's game, but he felt there was a hidden aspect to it all. As if she had been threatened and silenced, but if she said that Takasugi had been captured and hauled off, who was he to push into the subject?

Whatever had happened could have been so bad that she couldn't speak of it yet. So he would give her time. And as he looked over at Kagura and up at Gintoki on their walk back to the Yorozuya, he knew the man was thinking the same.

* * *

Takasugi had the girl's routine down to a tee by the end of a few days. He watched to see if she called the police, and in his stake outs he'd learned a lot. No cops had come by, but for the first day, the store didn't open at all, and the girl made no appearance. An older woman, and the beggar man seemed to live there; returning at all hours of the night, and never wasting too much time on the shop.

By noon, the girl would come out and feed a stray cat or two with what he assumed was left overs, and then she would lock the shop and head out. She returned around three and either kept the shop open until six or stayed in the building until morning.

He didn't know where she went, or what she was doing when she decided not to open shop.

As Takasugi reached the end of his borrowed book, he glanced at the storefront and watched the girl kneel down. Three cats had come to visit her today, and she set pinches of food on the ground in front of them and watched as they ate. Never dared to touch them fully, but her hand hovered over the smallest of the bunch momentarily before being retracted. He didn't know why, but it irked him. Just pet it, he thought, but the girl's hand remained on her knee. He tried to will her with his mind, but she didn't move.

An excruciating moment passed as his mind echoed to pet the cats, simultaneously wondering what decent person would just sit there watching when the strays clearly needed more than food. Just as he thought he could will her no more, a calico placed its paw on the girl's knee and poked its head up towards her. The girl's head cocked to the side and she looked as though she spoke. For a second Takasugi wondered if it was as softly as he'd remembered, but the girl's hand returned to petting position. Hovering just near the cat's delightful little ear. Then the group scattered.

The girl jerked up and her neck stretched out towards the man Takasugi had considered a charity project. Before he realized what was happening, the girl fell back onto her hip, then glided to her feet to dart after the dark haired tyrant back into the storefront.

That couldn't be good.

The man could be a customer, but it looked serious, and for the first time, he had seen a clear expression on the girl's face. Big eyes and a slack jaw. Panic, or surprise, he wasn't sure. He wasn't close enough to tell.

It wasn't the time to stroll over and find out for himself though. Takasugi had to wait. Uncomfortable as the sight had made him, he wasn't inclined to take the fall for a shipment gone awry. He had already cleaned everything up on his end. Keeping the goods until he returned was the girl's responsibility, and if she couldn't do that, he didn't want to risk it.

"Bansai," His voice came as controlled and cool as he expected from himself. Years of training hadn't gone to waste, and he eased himself back to a comfortable position against the wood frame.

"Yes?" Kawakami wasn't even four yards away. His feet were up on the writing desk, and he idly dug his chopsticks into his rice to scoop out the next contender.

"Let's reschedule the exchange for two days from now. The sooner this is over the better." His friend didn't object, or put much thought into the request from the sound of it. He gave an affirmative hum, and set back to focusing on his food. As if nothing was important. There was still an uneasy note trying to coax its way into Takasugi's mind though. He'd have to reestablish his bearings on the situation.

* * *

By nightfall, Takasugi had the time to reign in his anxiousness. He went to the storefront, but the shop was closed for the night. The sign gleamed back at him, almost taunting in the way it denied access to the girl. But Takasugi knew which window was hers. she often opened it, and leaned out in the middle of the night to smoke and stare at the street below, like one of the alley cats she so often fed.

He considered climbing up to enter the room himself, but quickly ruled against it. Years of being a criminal had not diminished his morals in that sense, and he wanted no part of midnight rendezvous with the girl in her room. Instead he went more practical. The number on the store window was his best bet, and he punched the sequence into his cellphone.

After a short delay, an audible chirp sent his gaze to the stoop beside the door. Blue light greeted Takasugi, and his face dropped as he stared at the device. The number went directly to the girl. She must have dropped her phone. Snapping his phone shut, Takasugi stooped to pick the device up. It was no surprise that the girl wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but it put him in an odd position.

Forced him to resort to cliches. The man wandered to the side of the house and peered up at the black square of glass she so often perched out of. Took a stone in his hand and threw a pebble at the abyss of her window. The first impact rang out through the street, and echoed off the buildings around him, and after a few seconds, Takasugi found another to throw. The second managed to draw the attention of a solitary drunken form, stumbling by, and he heard a knowing, warm chuckle that tightened his mouth into a hard line.

Then, as if he had laid out a circle and opened the portal to hell itself, a ghostly pale form took to the window and parted the drapes. In the porthole, the girl was barely decent, the lower half of her hidden below the frame. She peered out, and after a second of deliberation, raised the frame.

Faced with her, Takasugi peered into her exposed eye and silence enveloped the street. He didn't know if he was waiting for her to speak, or if he had words of his own, but stood there, expectantly. Almost like a deer in headlights, glaring at an approaching car. He didn't know what to say.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Words tumbled out before his mind had processed his tone, or the approach he was taking. Instead of moving, the girl peered back at him and leaned onto the frame.

"Maybe I'll jump."

"Would it get you here _faster_?"

The girl above stared back, completely blank. Studied Takasugi. Her face betrayed no hint of a response and it felt as though every passing second was a year. Then, she turned away, and Takasugi could have sworn he heard a snort. An airy laugh that was surprisingly good natured.

So she was human.

She disappeared from the window, and in the moments it took for the light in the store to turn on, Takasugi took a breath, hoping to regain in every shred of diplomacy before facing her.

Watching her be so unceremoniously pulled into the shop, then finding it closed had convinced him that there was a problem. His stomach had lurched at the dark store front, and relief had graced his entire body when she greeted him, though wordlessly. Takasugi let himself by the girl when she unlocked the door, casually clothed, and she made no attempt at retreating behind the counter, but sat a few seats away from him when he took a bar stool.

His eye danced over her, almost taking stock as she sat there. Her dignified stance seemed unnatural to him, and he wished that he could keep his back so straight and be comfortable. If he stayed like that for too long, his middle back started to ache. A sign of old age, maybe, but he would never admit it. The girl wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see glimmers of dark skin across her neck. He face hadn't been spared but she had been cleaned up.

But now that he was face to face with her, he still hadn't come up with anything.

"Thursday, I'll be back with an associate. Around midnight."

Kinu didn't move, and Takasugi kept his gaze on her. Waited for a verbal response that never came. Her cheek was darkened but he could only see the edge under the shadow of her hair. Nothing too alarming. She could have fallen for all he knew. Maybe.

"When we arrive, I'd like you to serve some tea. That's it. You don't need to speak, or even bother with him."

"Hm."

What was that supposed to mean? The girl tilted her head down, and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. Barely turned her head towards him. Hiding it maybe.

"I tried to call you, but-"

"Creepy." The girl cut him off and finally faced him. Her brows creased, and her lips pulled into suspicious grimace. "How?"

Frowning back, the man felt his mouth open, then shut.

"It's on the window!" Flinging a hand towards the store front, Takasugi met Kinu's icy gaze with a look of equal irritation.

"Oh..."

The man dug into his sleeve and shoved her phone into her hands, rolling his eye as she examined it, still frowning to herself.

"It was outside."

Kinu dipped her head again. Sat motionless, unbothered by Takasugi's prying gaze. Then she gingerly placed the phone on the counter and took to her feet.

"Tea?" As if they had never been engaged in conversation, she rounded the counter, and pushed up her sleeves. Almost immediately, she pulled them back down, though Takasugi hadn't gotten a good look.

"Save it for Thursday." He murmured, suddenly uncomfortable again. If there was something going on, he didn't want to know. Just wanted to get the job done and forget meeting the girl. Get both of the jobs done. If she was being abused, she'd probably throw herself at any chance of getting away. The girl was an easy target. As he raised from his chair, a low voice came from behind the counter, and he paused to meet the girl's cerulean eyes.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"Let me check the schedule."

As if realizing how ridiculous the question sounded, she tilted her head to one side. Stared off into some distant land that danced along the counter top and carried her away somewhere that Takasugi could only assume was pleasant, because the corners of her lips slid up in the faintest way. It would have been easy to miss if he hadn't already been studying her, and he was glad he had turned around when she'd spoken.

"Am I going to jail?"

"Only if you call the cops. I won't testify on your behalf."

"You're not a cop?"

Now it was Takasugi's turn to laugh. The sheer ridiculousness of the conversation struck him in the wrong place, and he found himself appalled but grinning at the girl.

"Are you stupid?"

She hummed once, then shifted her weight. "Sometimes."

"Everybody is." This time, the man didn't stick around to see her expression. He let himself out of the shop, and the pleasant jingle of the bell bid his farewell for him. As he left, he could feel the eyes on his back, but expended every ounce of his strength on facing forward.


	7. Escorts

She was immersed in warmth, and the sun beat down on her face. Eyes closed, she basked in the light, and the divinity of her peace. The comfort of her position. All was well and right until she attempted a breath of fresh air, only to find the barrier at her nose to resist. Water. Everything was water, and she was completely enveloped in it. Kinu's eyes fluttered open, and she found her own hair floating in the edges of her vision. Ripples of light stretched before her, and she slowly pulled her leg in, suspended in mid air.

Panic hit her like a brick wall at the restraint on her ankle, and when she attempted leaning up, her arms resisted. Every sense in Kinu's body flooded back to her, and she glanced at her arm to find a thick rope that stretched off to a metal hook. Weighed her down. She was suspended in her inevitable demise. Waiting to drown, and well aware of her distant life. Maybe this would be it. She would lay here, in the water, and allow it to claim her.

End any pain, ache, or emotional breakage that inhibited her.

Then her mind surfaced.

The light was beating down on her from her resting spot; tied and abandoned. On the edge of drowning as soon as she exhaled.

No.

No, she didn't want this. She didn't want to die. Not like this, or like any other way, she wanted to live.

Her body pulsed on its own. She spasmed, and started to thrash. Bubbles roared past her and tickled her eardrums and skin as she twisted and turned against the restraints, and wisps of hair clawed into her view as her hands grasped at nothingness.

This wasn't going ot be it. She was going to be happy. If it killed her, she was going to find happiness and keep it for herself. Be as greedy as humanly possible and nestle it between her entire being like an egg waiting to hatch. She would find that egg. She would be that egg and hatch on her own. As soon as she escaped. The water swirled with more bubbles and her left wrist snapped free of the ground, taking the hook with it. She leaned forward to free her ankles and her nails cut at her flesh, digging the it away from the hangman's noose. Her right wrist was more difficult to free but she bit at the restraints, and pulled at the edges, she drifted up, clawing with all her might.

Then her torso snagged her down again. Just before the surface. Her hand seemed so close, and she grasped the thick rope, pulling and trying to push it over her hips, but it wouldn't give.

Her lungs were through.

She couldn't hold her breath anymore, and a last, desperate scream racked her body, sending a cluster of bubbles ahead of her to freedom.

* * *

Then she fell. Crashed onto the hardwood beside her bed, grasping at her body and the sheet around her torso. A long pause took her while she sucked in a breath, still on the floor, dripping with sweat.

A dream.

It was just the dream again.

"Tell that girl to shut up! Ain't right for her to take our sleep too!"

"Kinu?" Gentle rapping at the door interrupted her father's slurred yelling down the hallway. Kinu's mother's soft voice was carried into the room, and the girl sat up. Tried to recollect herself as she carefully pried the door open to peek at the woman with a single eye.

"Honey, are you alright? You were yelling again..." The woman's forehead creased in worry. She placed a hand on the door, but it didn't budge. Kinu nodded once. A soft yellow robe had been haphazardly draped around her mother's shoulders, and her dull brown hair had been pulled back in a messy bun that only drew more attention to her mousy face.

"Ai, god damn it, don't baby her!" Another gruff shout came from her parent's room, and Kinu stared straight at her mother as the woman turned for a second then rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure? This is the second time this week, and it's only wednesday..."

Kinu hummed once then murmured an apology. Eased the door shut, so not to offend her mother unit, and return to privacy. She needed to smoke, but that guy had her shipment. If she knew where he was, she'd be able to take it, but didn't want to bother with other people. Instead, she opted for the emergency bowl, packed in her winter jacket. Scrolled through her phone, and let herself out of her room when the house was silent and dark again. Nobody cared. They never tried to stop her from coming and going, and weren't going to start now.

As Kinu stepped out onto the dark street, the night air greeted her. She'd only done the basics to straighten herself up. Washed her face, brushed her hair once, then her teeth. The night was warmer than she'd anticipated, but with no choice left, Kinu forced herself to the end of the street to get as far from her anxiety as possible. People littered the pathway, mostly hovering in the dark walkways and keeping to themselves, but she could feel their eyes on her as she approached and passed. Tobacco hung in the air, paired with something Kinu couldn't put her finger on. A hint of spice, maybe. Ambergris, cutting through the gutters and fermenting urine from the paths to the casino on the adjacent street. As she walked, an all too familiar form appeared over the curve of the street.

She tried not to look, after noticing who it was. The straight hair and wrapped eye was enough to give it away. Paired with the scent sword, and purple kimono, Kinu had no question in her mind whether it was him. Walking towards her, with the street lights sprinkling the path behind him and a shallow cup curled in his fingers. She wondered if she was obligated to speak. Then thought better of it.

Why would she? He was practically blackmailing her, she thought.

Her mind quickly jumped to her overly causal clothes. A single black yukata, with no frills or embellishment. Only a white belt that could pass as appropriate in a pinch. As they neared one another, their eyes connected, and the man at his side came as an after thought. Taller and donning a navy blue trench coat. They passed, and Kinu had no intention of stopping, but was compelled to when the man turned.

The moment the girl had come into view, Takasugi's stomach had dropped and twisted into a knot. A shiver went down his spine, connecting with the dead blue eyes, and everything about the situation screamed poltergeist. But Takasugi couldn't help but stop. It was a quarter past two and the girl was roaming the streets, which was suspicious in itself.

When he glanced back, the girl had halted as well, but hadn't looked back at him.

"It's improper for a lady to be out at this time."

"Hm." Just under her breath, Takasugi could have sworn the girl said "you're here". His discomfort left him at once, and he faced her. The sight alone was creepy, but the moment she spoke, all tension seemed to break. The girl peeked back, curiosity written all over her face. There was a moment of silence, that even the breeze didn't break. They did nothing but peer at one another, and Takasugi felt pressed to speak again. At his side, Kawakami angled himself towards the girl.

"This is... The tea shop girl?"

Nodding, the one eyed man kept his gaze on the ghost.

"You're Inoue, right?"

"Kinu." She stated. Inappropriate as it was to address her by her given name, the notion bubbled in Takasugi's stomach in the form of a small chuckle. The sound was warm, if not a bit unsettling, and Kinu's eyes scraped over him again with a clear question.

"Kawakami Bansai" The deaf man stated, barely tipping his glasses in greeting. He motioned to his friend, neither smiling or frowning, "And Shinsuke- Takasugi."

The girl nodded. Didn't make any attempt at speaking.

"Would you care to join us?"

The offer tilted the girl's head, and she glanced over the back road at the shadows perched in the alleyway. The men looked at her the way she though they would a pawn, or an accepted acquaintance that was unobtrusive.

In the moments of quiet that ensued, the girl checked her phone again, and sighed. She stepped towards the men, back the way she had come. Following strangers wasn't really a danger, right? That was mostly a myth parents told their children to keep them within sight and keep them from hidden stashes of candy. She started along with the men, and they resumed walking as though she had been there with them all along.

"What are you doing out at a time like this?"

"I couldn't sleep." Glancing at the one eyed man, Kinu sank between the two; safely nestled away from the prying eyes of drunks and beggers alike. She found it difficult to meet the man's gaze, from under his straw hat, but was barely short enough to make it work.

"Oh?"

"Because you stole my tea." She added, and Takasugi narrowed his eye. As if. Stealing was a harsh word in the name of justice, and tea was below his priorities.

"With that logic, you stole my guns. The price on that is far more steep than renting out your shop." Pipe to his lips, Takasugi puffed on the ember to return a steady burn to his tobacco. Beside them, Kawakami snickered under his breath, and if tension had been building, it quickly dissipated.

"Take me to my box."

A trail of smoke escaped the man's lips as he eyed the girl. Waiting for her to avert her gaze. She didn't. When she halted, he did the same.

"No."

"Hm." The girl took a step forward, her overly intense gaze lingering. "It'd be a shame if something happened to your _package_." The same eerie feeling from before charged the air around Takasugi, but he held fierce and didn't flinch. The girl was barely as tall as his shoulders, what was she gonna do to him? Nothing.

"Don't make threats you can't keep." He murmured, and the girl glided forth another step.

"It wasn't a threat."

Takasugi's hand came up to the hilt of his sword, and he ignored the solid form behind the girl as he closed the rest of the distance between himself and her, leaving barely a few inches. Was this what she did in her free time? Tried to intimidate grown men that passed her on the street? It might have worked against other men, in that get up, but Takasugi wasn't afraid to cut a ghost. He swallowed a laugh at the sight of the girl's dreary expression, and as he expected, she didn't move.

Just stared up at him with what he could only explain to be sharp doe eyes. Maybe she could be a threat to somebody, but not him. And she knew it.

"Don't start with me." The man's voice was low, maybe even sympathetic, or annoyed, Kinu couldn't tell. Whichever it was didn't matter. He turned on his heel and continued the way he had been going. It took a moment, but man behind Kinu gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and she peered at him over said hand. He motioned along behind Takasugi, and she caught his drift. Just on the street beside them, Kinu could hear a cacophony of voices and cheers. Drunks, and gamblers at the casino, most likely. She watched for other people, that apparently felt more threatening than the men.

* * *

The first sight of home prompted the girl to ease closer to Takasugi's direction, and when he was in front of her again, he offered only one motion to the entrance. Kinu studied the dark doorway, then him again, and the tight line of his lips. The ridiculing narrow of his eye.

She felt silly for approaching him and his company as she did, just to complain, and even hinting at a threat, knowing full well that he wouldn't fall for it. So she dropped her gaze and murmured her thanks under her breath. It was a good natured gesture, right? As the girl eased by Takasugi and started the short journey back to her house, he turned with her, silently at her side.

Two forms stumbled into the alley in front of them. A man and woman, holding onto one another to stabilize themselves. The woman was enveloped in her company's arm and they openly laughed. Made no attempt to lower their pitch, or mask their presence. Though she tried not to stare, Kinu couldn't help it when the man stooped forward in front of the woman, and they stumbled to the right together.

Two idiots in la la land, kissing in the streets. Didn't look so dangerous to Kinu. Still, the older man accompanied her back to her shop, and when she sat in the small opening at the side of the building, took a seat on the pavement beside her.

His company followed, but he showed his palm and shook his head.

"Leave us."

Kawakami stood in the mouth of the alley, and nodded once. Started to turn back the way they had come, but gave a line under his breath that earned a glare.

"Play nice." He left without another word, and Takasugi's attention stayed on the empty entrance to their hiding spot as if he expected company.

Kinu wondered if they couldn't sleep either. He didn't seem like the type to be in the cheeriest of places by default, nor did he have the blissful look about himself. But he didn't speak again. She'd lit her bowl, keeping with the silent theme, with her gaze down the walkway to intentionally avoid glancing towards the man.

"Why?"

As Kinu spoke, Takasugi leaned back against the wall of the building. He spared a glance on the black wall of hair between him and the girl, wondering if she would move or make eye contact. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them with a red lighter clutched in the hand closest to him.

"Dying would be inconvenient until after tomorrow night."

Kinu's head turned and she pushed the draping hair from her eyes as she squinted at the man. That wasn't very flattering. A single olive eye dug into her, until she realized, all too late, that her hair had been the only thing between her pride and his scrutinization. Blinking the sight away, Kinu turned her head again, this time taking care to pull her bangs back forward.

"You look like hell."

"Thank you." The response came before she thought better of it, but the man only released a short hum that could have rivaled her own. "I fell."

"Of course." He murmured back, and Kinu tried not to look again. She tried to think of another topic. The book she'd loaned him, or living as a criminal. Anything other than her fading purple cheek. Just a few more days and it would be good as new, but it was still a waiting game, and she was on the wrong side of it.

"I'm clumsy." She blurted the words out, and was positive that they sounded as wrong as they felt.

"Your relationship is none of my business." Even as ever, Takasugi peered towards the mouth of the alley. The weight of his sword pressed into his shoulder, as he propped his elbow on his knee.

"I'm not-" Kinu leaned up, and the sudden movement prompted the man to turn back. "That's not it." She started to push herself up. Escape the conversation while she could, but a hand wrapped around her wrist and she was pulled back down.

"You should watch where you're going next time." The man watched an assortment of expressions wash over Kinu. Her usual absent stare turned to a more focused, even challenged frown. Then with a steady exhale, her face settled on a slowly extending grin. As if she found humor in the situation. The way she snickered into her sleeve made Takasugi believe he was a professional comedian.

For a split second, Kinu wished Shinpachi would do something like this guy. Be comfortable sitting down next to her, alone, in a dark alley. Not care if she smoked, or blatantly lied. But maybe that was what mad him cute. The innocence, or the fragment of hope that still guided him forward. Takasugi had none of that. Just sitting beside him felt dangerous, even if it had started with a questionably honorable attempt at securing her well being. He kept his eye trained on Kinu and she peered back up at him, then the haze of the street lights behind him as she inhaled another lungful of smoke, and laid her head on her knees.

"When I sit out here, all the couples that pass by look like they're living a teen romance, or some perfect life."

"They're not." Takasugi's voice was equally low as he watched the couple in question fumble through their line of view. The woman at the lead was dragging her associate behind her, grinning and nearly tripping when she turned to tease him. Takasugi knew that was a prostitute. It did look like Kinu said from the outside, but the girl was possibly too young to understand that every moment would never be like that. Even that moment was likely plagued with the semi-sick lurching of their stomachs, and real problems lingering just behind their actions and focus. The louder and more needy they acted, the more demanding the issues. "They're only competing with their actual lives for their attention right now."

"How do you know?" The girl hummed the words, and Takasugi didn't bother to turn back to her.

"We all are." His words hung in the air, and Takasugi watched another set of people pass the alley, barely studying the small crowd. The casino must have been closing to clean for a few hours.

"I suppose you're right." Kinu's answer was late, but her tone convinced Takasugi that she had been turning the statement over in her mind the entire time. "I was thinking..." Pausing, Kinu met the man's singular gaze. He still looked intimidating. Exactly like the kind of person you wouldn't want to be alone in an alley with. His presence was grim at best, despite his obvious love of finer things, demonstrated in his kimono. But he wasn't unpleasant. "My shop is going out of business. It doesn't matter if you use it until it dies."

Kinu leaned back against the wall, and her eyes slipped shut. The first easy breath since she'd awoken came to her, and Takasugi watched her for a moment before turning back to the mouth of the alley. He didn't respond. The girl was an idiot. Couldn't she tell that she was dangerously close to being another pawn in his game? Everything about the situation; the guns, the stabbing men in the shop, none of it was safe, or healthy. Takasugi thought about it longer than he meant to, but by the time he turned back to her, the girl was softly breathing, eyes still closed. At some point, she'd laid against the wall, stretched her legs in front of her, and checked out.

Idiot.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the windows and pooled over Kinu's eye. The irritation of having light directly over her face was enough to lull her awake, and the girl slowly sat up, confused and racking her mind for any explanation of her location. She was in the shop, laid across a booth. Her bowl and lighter sat on the floor under the table, and she quickly grabbed them to shove into her pocket and assume normalcy.


	8. Cowards and Business

**A/N: Hi all! lemme just say, TRIGGER. WARNING. If you're prone to romanticize suicidal ideology, or get triggered by suicidal thoughts and narration, please close this story, because I really don't think it's all that rare for my oc to sink into that place, and it may be a lil too much if its a sore spot for you. Take care of yourself tho, especially if you do, cause das not good.**

* * *

The next time Kinu saw the one eyed man, the streets were black as the tea he requested. At the chime of her phone, moments before midnight, she made her way to the door, key in hand, and as she moved the blinds his form lumbered over her through the glass pane. She froze, as anybody would do at the sight of another person standing in the night outside of their house, but Takasugi let himself in before she could process her next move. The man passed her with ease, with a single instruction that called her to action again.

"Go ahead, lock up."

Whether she should listen to him was up for debate, but against her better judgement, she obliged and returned to her stoop behind the counter. Takasugi was prompt with his order only speaking the bare necessity to convey his desire, and his nature was reflected back to him without a voice. He watched as the girl took an orange cactus printed teacup and set it on the counter between them, then clicked his teeth.

"That's hideous. What sort of business are you running here?"

"A _failing_ one," the girl shot back, and her gaze shot up to meet his, more harsh than he remembered her.

 _"It's certainly the cup's doing."_ His voice was low. Testing the waters, and as if the eye contact had been too much energy to maintain, Kinu averted, and opted for another cup. He thought it was a good joke. Something that would make her laugh as she had the night before, but her face was a hard mask. Concrete at best. Maybe titanium. He didn't know where to go from there, but allowed the silence to sink in as he took in the store front again. Now that he did, it struck him as more than plain. Darling even. It was a mishmash of traditional artwork and foods, with modern furnishings. The dishes were all from separate sets of china, save for a few, but went well together as a whole. The warm light truly made the shop better at night. More atmospheric. Sunlight would ruin it, and make it fall back into obscurity; revealing too much to keep the magic of the shop alive for any customers.

Their problem was their business hours.

When Kinu placed a floral navy cup on a saucer with lush red roses and thorny green vines in front of him, he felt the corners of his lips elevate. Maybe not enough to be seen. He hoped not. Smiling at an improper cup of tea wasn't very business like or official.

"I don't trust my business partner tonight." He breathed the words after inhaling the vibrant malty aroma wafting from the steaming cup.

"Hm?" The girl still didn't look at him, but tilted her head to the side. He wondered if it was to hear him better, or to avoid getting sink water in her hair as she methodically ran a soapy cloth over a handful of plates and mugs.

"If you'd prefer to leave, I'll allow it. We'll settle the deal, and I'll deliver your shipment as soon as we do."

"No."

Takasugi couldn't say that he was shocked at the answer, but in the back of his mind, he wondered why. If he explicitly said that it was dangerous, he expected Kinu to quietly back down. Maybe hand the key to the shop over. Instead, the girl stacked another dish onto the drying rack, twisted the water off, and started against her hands with gingham towel. The man permitted himself a sip of tea, and the ever pervasive silence crept over the room again, only this time, Kinu's eyes were directly on his, unwavering. Digging, even, for something that he didn't think was there from the lack of expression on her face. She made no attempt to speak. Didn't move. He questioned whether she even breathed, and was tempted to swat his hand through her ethereal form and prove it was nothing but a ghostly wisp playing out a semi-intelligent interaction that boiled down to coincidence.

"There could be injuries." He meant it as a warning, but the words came out matter of fact and sharp. Because it really didn't matter, and he couldn't find it in himself to care if she turned out to be making a mistake and was another fell pawn on his board.

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. As they say."

"Nobody say's that." The man cut in quickly after her, but she didn't defend her position. It was possibly the longest sober sentence he'd gotten out of her, and the novelty wasn't lost on Takasugi. Kinu watched a spark glimmer in his eye, and eased into a demure narrow of a smile before forcing herself back into her nightly clean up.

He was wrong.

Kinu said it, and she was somebody. Maybe not somebody important, but she definitely thought she met the criteria for being a somebody, and she said it. The one eyed man didn't offer any more to turn her away, and bid her a temporary parting. Said he'd be back in an hour or so, in the dead of the dead of the night, if there was such a thing. And that sounded like something Kinu wanted to exist, so she decided that it did.

After his leaving, Kinu continued being a responsible adult. She tidied the entire room, and set out a few of the most expensive teas from the back of the cupboards. She swept, lit some incense to further mask any lingering alcoholic stench, and imagined the taboo feeling of sneaking one of those guns away and pressing the icy metal to her own temple. Stretching her mouth to fit the barrel of a gun into it, and the click and release of pulling the trigger, knowing what would happen and the bloody aftermath that would be found by her mother, or even luckier, her father. But then the expensive clean up fees she would feel guilty for, and the lingering mental scarring that her mother didn't need, accompanied with the drama and the fuss and police or whatever happened when somebody blew the back of their own head clean off.

It would be an unprofessional work environment, but Takasugi probably wouldn't be bothered by it, and would consider it quirky. An inconvenience, but doable and quirky. He'd complete his deal, including the gun she'd have lifted and go on with his life with this as a pebble in the road at best.

Then she didn't do it, because she was a coward, but she kept the thought snug in her head. Wrapped it in silk and filed it away as an overly dramatic but doable option if she decided that she needed to snap and have a break down in a room full of criminals trying to carry out a peaceful business deal.

But she knew she wouldn't do it.

Because she was shy. And a coward.

* * *

 **A/N: This is a short update because I typed chapters out here before, and forgot about them for too long, so all my files were erased here. Sorry about that, everyone. I had a stroke of inspiration here, though, and I'll try to come back and write again soon. I actually just got a desktop computer, which is a huge relief and step towards writing again because one of the main issues before was that the keyboard on my laptop was broken and the space bar never worked, since i'd gotten it. Take care everyone, and thank you for the reads and reviews!**


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